The Dying of Boredom Swan

Well. There's that, then.
My dad had his surgery today, and I am now playing the good daughter and taking care of him (and cleaning the bathroom because dad, you need to clean your bathroom sometimes) until he's back to driving again. Unfortunately the surgeon quadrupled his recovery time estimate as soon as he got in there. So, I will be here for a good long while, yet. I will try not to whine about missing ballet too much, but it's already taking a back seat to missing my husband. I am basically trying not to think about it. I am physically wrecked (six hours of driving, plus not getting much sleep the last few nights, plus sitting in the hospital lobby for about five hours will do that to you, even if you don't already have janky knees and hands. I eventually had to stand up in the lobby and walk around for a while just so my knees wouldn't seize up any worse than they already had. I caught myself absently doing a little tiny lunge-from-fifth-tendu-back-weight-transfer-tendu-forward and kinda cracked myself up.) and emotionally exhausted (oh god, you mean it only gets worse as they get older? *whimper*)

So, what is stranger? That my dad just fell asleep to the sound of The Dying Swan on his stereo, or the fact that it wasn't playing my music collection? Or, better still, that I recognized it within about three notes?